


Proposition

by LiveOakWithMoss



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Best frenemies with benefits who will totally shoot each other in the head if need be, Crossdressing, M/M, Secrets/Whiskey verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 18:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4231659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Celegorm, Mablung, "Join me"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proposition

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Leave Your Secrets and Kiss the Whiskey from My Lips](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3377786) by [victoriousscarf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf). 



“No,” said Celegorm, flatly, and then said it again in Sindarin, to make sure that Mablung understood. “No, absolutely fucking not, in fact, I oughta shoot you in the head for suggesting it.”

“Aw, c’mon, Fëanorion,” said Mablung, in a tone that wasn’t quiet sincere enough to be begging. Closer to wheedling, maybe. “You owe me.”

“How the hell do you figure?”

“I totally got you outta jail that one time.”

“You were the reason I was IN jail!” bellowed Celegorm. “Sweet Mother Mary, the audacity you have…”

“No need to call me sweet,” said Mablung, and ducked as Celegorm swung a fist at him. “Sorry! Sorry. Honestly, though, if you do this for me,” his voice dropped, serious for the first time, “I’ll owe you one.” He met Celegorm’s eyes straight on. “You know a favor from one of Thingol’s men isn’t one to be taken lightly.”

Celegorm hesitated. This was true. And for all he and Mablung threatened and fought, there were times, and this was one of them, when he knew the other was telling the truth. A favor, in these dark times, would be nothing to sneer at…

“Fine,” he said at last, “ _Fine_. But if I hear a single snicker from you, your brains are gonna be on the alley wall, boyo.”

“Not a chortle,” said Mablung, hand to his heart, and he handed Celegorm the bundle of clothes. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Celegorm, swearing softly in Quenya, slipped out of his trousers and into the skirt and bodice, fighting the small buttons and the petticoat. “Gotta say, that doesn’t look half bad on you, Fëanorion.”

“Suck my dick,” said Celegorm, grabbing the beribboned straw hat and pulling it low over his eyes.

“Maybe later,” said Mablung, and grinned. “Let’s go, Princess. We got a john to fleece.”


End file.
